Orange world

I walked into the orange grove where every fruit was laughter,
The trees were strung with veins of light, the roots drank joyful matter.
My worries fell like overripe and bruised forgotten seasons,
The soil turned them to a scent of liberated reasons.
A warm wind taught my tightened shoulders how to be a dancer,
The sun unbuttoned my restraint and whispered: “Take the answer.”
Creativity flowed up my spine like sap in ancient cedars,
A fever of delight that turns all strangers into readers
Of one bright manuscript — my heart — with not a single censor.

Saffron strands of enlightenment,
Untangling my bewilderment.
Endorphins rush like liquid sun —
My liberation has begun.
I’m painting with a brand new hue,
An orange world, a dream come true.

I launched a paper boat upon an orange veind river,
Each fold a former heavy thought, now light enough to shiver.
The current was a humming chord of some electric sunrise,
It carried me past shores of “must” and reefs of worn out “somewise.”
My spine uncoiled like anchored rope and floated free of harbor,
The water’s warmth rewrote my name in syllables of ardor.
I poured my mind into the stream — it came back stained with color,
An alchemy of letting go that made the whole world smaller
And every wave a brushstroke on a canvas ever taller.

Saffron strands of enlightenment,
Untangling my bewilderment.
Endorphins rush like liquid sun —
My liberation has begun.
I’m painting with a brand new hue,
An orange world, a dream come true.